


What The Flat Saw

by PatPrecieux



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Humor, M/M, POV Inanimate Object, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:53:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22669603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatPrecieux/pseuds/PatPrecieux
Summary: Valentine's Day in the empty flat proves to be more than a bit interesting.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 44
Kudos: 57





	What The Flat Saw

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AlwaysJohn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysJohn/gifts), [ChrisCalledMeSweetie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCalledMeSweetie/gifts), [DaisyFairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyFairy/gifts), [notjustmom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notjustmom/gifts), [NovaNara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaNara/gifts), [Podfixx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Podfixx/gifts), [scrub456](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/gifts), [simplyclockwork](https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/gifts).



> When the humans are away for Valentine's Day the real occupants of 221B have their disgruntled say.

It isn't surprising that the skull initiates the conversation as he IS after all the most senior of Sherlock's possessions. "Well, well the whole place all to ourselves. The two horny idiots are off on holiday, Valentine's Day-bosh!, and the housekeeper, pardon, landlady is gone to visit her sister."

The mantle rippled under a bony jaw, "About bloody time we get to have a say about what goes on around here without", it shuddered, "me having to worry about being stabbed every time the post arrives with some 'must keep' papers."

"Oh sooo sad.", hissed the fireplace. "At least you don't get set aflame in the middle of damned summer because it's 'more romantic'."

"Like you've got the market cornered on aggro.", shouted the kitchen table. "I've been set on fire, burned with acid and chemicals AND JESUS- did no one EVER tell them I was meant to be eaten off of not fucked on?!"

The ceiling above chimed in, "And just where do you suppose all the exploded muck off you and them winds up? On ME!!"

"And me.", the lino floor warbled. "It happens so often that I'm warped, and listen to my voice. It's cracking just like my finish."

The skull endeavored to interrupt, "Now see here Kitchen..."

"Oh no you don't!", shrieked the kettle. "We're not done in here. How about me? My poor bottom is sore all the time from that confounded Watson always slamming me down on the counter in a fit of pique at his Holmes."

"Don't set none too well with me either, mate.", the counter replied.

A harrumph came from the coffee table. "You think I ENJOY being stood on like I'm a stepladder? My back is a wreck!"

"Shut up! YOU ever have to keep dead body parts in your bowels?", chattered the icebox throwing open its door to reveal a torso and the stench of spoiled milk. "And could Sherlock give me FRESH milk just once?!"

"Speaking of being stood on", grumbled Sherlock's chair, "I..."

The old worn red armchair sighed. "You know I love you dear but we're meant to be sat upon you and I."

"AND have unspeakable sex acts performed between our arms?!"

The sofa scoffed. "Excuse me if I'm not impressed. What they get up to on me is positively indecent. I have lumps on my lumps!"

"Listen to all of them Brother dear", pinged John's laptop. "All day long every single day- peck peck peck! My keys have bruises every colour of the rainbow."

"Least you get new things to read Brother", snapped Sherlock's laptop. "Have you any idea how BORED I am of tobacco ash?!"

"And I have my dream come true? Sherlock's porn searches, God forbid he should do those on you and not me, and the blogger's sentimental drivel about his brilliant husband."

"We should be grateful for that sentimentality my friends.", droned the skull. "We have that to thank for their current sex holiday."

"As if they need to go AWAY to find new places to shag!", a porcelain voice echoed from the loo. "Trust me, shower fucks are alive and well and I can't close the curtain or my eyes. Forced to take a front row seat I am."

"You and every other solid surface in the flat.", creaked the sitting room door.

"Especially the walls.", the smiley face frowned. "And I have the added 'bonus' of bullet holes!"

"Speaking of front row seats...", the toilet flushed.

"No, NO! Don't any of us want to hear about that!", gurgled the sink.

"Not that I'm complaining about the peace and quiet", the skull interjected, "but I DO wish the Strad was here to provide some soothing music and not off to Majorca with those PEOPLE. Nevertheless we should be glad of this opportunity to vent our frustrations excepting, of course, those in 221A where apparently everyone is always happy as Hudders. Whatever that means."

"Don't include me with that downstairs lot.", the seventeen stairs groaned. "I can tell you what it's like being REALLY stomped on I assure you."

Murmurs of agreement rumbled throughout the flat.

At that moment a loud yawn erupted from the master bedroom eliciting a collective moan.

"And here we go! Oh woe is me says the big comfy bed with the clean sheets and posh duvet. Care to guess where the filthy ones end up? Right here in me!", the hamper slammed its lid petulantly.

"Your JOB, if I'm not mistaken.", the bed answered smugly.

"Course it is but, bollocks, being slimey with cum and lube all the time is shite."

The bed snorted. "A natural result of my expertise as a love machine."

"Love machine", scoffed the wardrobe startling the jumpers and bespoke suits who clung to each other for comfort, "you're only another piece of furniture except you squeak and bang which frankly annoys the hell out of the rest of us!"

Sniffing dismissively the bed was about to argue when the bedside table began to rock back and forth.

"Hang on the two of you in there, you'll tip me over on me arse."

"Then open the drawer wanker and let us out!", came the muffled reply.

Unleashing a very unmannerly belch, the bedside table drawer popped open to reveal a pair of sleek dildos- one purple, one silver and gold.

"Christ on a crutch, the daylight is too damned bright.", the silver and gold dildo rasped.

"The light becomes you.", whispered the purple dildo. "Makes you look rather fetching."

"And you my aubergine angel are devastatingly beautiful."

"Fuck me, love sick sex toys? Nauseating!" huffed the bed.

"Easy for you to say to them.", the bedside table scolded. "You're not the one always shut away in a closed drawer. And the rare times their vibrators go off by accident in me- well let's just say none of us are thrilled. Makes my wood grain splinter and gives them raging headaches."

"Besides", silver and gold bristled, "where he and I get shoved is no picnic in Regent's Park!"

"Indeed. Dark and squishy is our world.", purple lamented.

Before any further discussion could ensue, the stairs sounded the "humans are coming" alarm and the flat went deathly still.

"Really John! Surely I can't be blamed for the epidemic that has made Majorca a no travel zone."

"Of course not love, I'm just disappointed is all. This was meant to be our best Valentine's Day ever."

"I deduce that we can still have quite a satisfying sex holiday here at Baker Street. Look, even our 'special drawer' is open to welcome us home.", Sherlock grinned.

"Was kicking myself for leaving those behind, guess we were destined to come back for them.", John waggled his eyebrows. "Best part is that now we can get up to ANYTHING we like, Lock. No one here to tell what they saw, yeah?"

They were exchanging a passionate tongues slick snog when Sherlock, suddenly on high alert, pulled away. "John did you hear something?" Only silence surrounded them. "Hmm, odd. Well no matter, I'm just imagining things I suppose. So, what are we waiting for? Ravish me Captain!"

As they began to undress John kissed Sherlock again but then cocked his head, his expression somewhat perplexed. "Funny thing that. There's nothing now sweetheart but for a moment there it DID sound for all the world like the whole flat was crying."

**Author's Note:**

> Always remember that others, besides Mycroft, just might be watching you. 👀
> 
> And there you have it, my Valentine to all of you. Whether you have a sweetheart or not on Valentine's Day never forget the most important person you can love is yourself. So have a happy one and celebrate beautiful YOU!
> 
> Want to send ME a Valentine? Kudos and comments are my candy and flowers.  
> 💜💙💚💛❤️ Pat


End file.
